The Jokers Wild
by Senor Blues
Summary: Ash postregeneration and the rest of the city are villaged by none other than the wicked clowns Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope, the ICP! But this is no normal concert... warning much dropping of the Fbomb is implied
1. Prologue

Chapter 1

June 1992:

Ash was holding Molly close to him and staring as though into a movie camera. "Hail to the king baby." He said to no one in particular. For the first time in a very long time, despite the deadite invasion of his sacred S-Mart, he felt safe. While he was posing for the cameras he half heard foot-steps approaching him very quickly. On instinct he whirled, pushed Molly to "safety" off the cart, and leveled his Winchester at whatever was running at him. Thankfully, he didn't fire. The noise was made by a perfectly "normal", if out of breath, woman who had her face painted up in the style of a clown. "OH MY GOD! THE ICP ARE HERE!"

Forgetting all about Ash and the deadite, fully half of the gathered crown, mostly older teens, including Molly dashed full tilt out the door to see the spectacle. Ash gawked as his "fans" and his "admirers" rush out and, jumping off the cart, he hangs his head. "The ICP. Greeeaaat. More 'dead' clowns looking for a little lead methadone." He walked out to the S-Mart parking lot and to his new (kinda) '94 Chrysler Le Baron and opened the trunk.

He ejected his annoying ass metal hand with a sigh of "finally". He reached in, picked up the trunk covering and exhumed his old beaten chainsaw. He hooked it onto his stump, grinned, did a few test cuts in the air, and pulled the chord. The familiar _rrrr-hehehheheheheh _ made his grin even bigger. He shut it off and replaced the chord in the holder that would allow a quick start-up. Going back into his trunk he rummaged around until he found his well-worn leather back holster. Strapping it on he made sure it was nice and tight and the clasp would hold. When he was satisfied he gave a quick rap on the side of the trunk and a flap popped out. He reached into the hidden compartment and pulled out his prized possession. The 12-guage double barreled Remington. With cobalt blue steel and a walnut stock, despite its well-worn appearance it was still a thing of beauty. He spun it a few times around his finger and deposited it cleanly in it's holster "Hey hero!" came a nasally voice with a Brooklyn accent from behind him. A sense of extreme annoyance filled Ash. "Damnit Runt! I thought you and I parted ways!"

When he turned to the voice he saw a 3ft tall midget in gray pants and a white t-shirt with Mr. T style ring and necklace. He also had half his skin missing. This was Sam Raimy, Ash's half-deadite "pall" and all around pain in the ass.

"Well hello to you too. What kind of greeting is that? Anyway I came in for the Gathering of the Juggalos and I saw S-Mart and figured I'd see if you were here so I could come and say watsup…So…Watsup?" A long silence followed where ash cocked his eyebrow and just stared at the midget.

"Alllriiight. I'm sensing some hostility. Now I was in the-" Sam was cut off when Ash, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to put up with this pest again, punted him into a nearby '72 Velari which burst into flames effectively incinerating Sam's body. Ash smiled thinking, 'that never gets old'. He started to walk to the Gathering when a voice behind him said, "Ash, you sir…are an ass-hole." Ash stopped pulled out his shotgun, rested it on his shoulder, and shot Sam in the face. A few seconds later… "Ash, every time you do that I get dirt in my teeth."

Ash clenched his fist and shouted "Why don't you ever stay dead!"

"Just to piss you off." Came the nasally reply.


	2. The Unveiling

Chapter 1

June 1992:

Ash was holding Molly close to him and staring as though into a movie camera. "Hail to the king baby." He said to no one in particular. For the first time in a very long time, despite the deadite invasion of his sacred S-Mart, he felt safe. While he was posing for the cameras he half heard foot-steps approaching him very quickly. On instinct he whirled, pushed Molly to "safety" off the cart, and leveled his Winchester at whatever was running at him. Thankfully, he didn't fire. The noise was made by a perfectly "normal", if out of breath, woman who had her face painted up in the style of a clown. "OH MY GOD! THE ICP ARE HERE!"

Forgetting all about Ash and the deadite, fully half of the gathered crown, mostly older teens, including Molly dashed full tilt out the door to see the spectacle. Ash gawked as his "fans" and his "admirers" rush out and, jumping off the cart, he hangs his head. "The ICP. Greeeaaat. More 'dead' clowns looking for a little lead methadone." He walked out to the S-Mart parking lot and to his new (kinda) '94 Chrysler Le Baron and opened the trunk.

He ejected his annoying ass metal hand with a sigh of "finally". He reached in, picked up the trunk covering and exhumed his old beaten chainsaw. He hooked it onto his stump, grinned, did a few test cuts in the air, and pulled the chord. The familiar _rrrr-hehehheheheheh _ made his grin even bigger. He shut it off and replaced the chord in the holder that would allow a quick start-up. Going back into his trunk he rummaged around until he found his well-worn leather back holster. Strapping it on he made sure it was nice and tight and the clasp would hold. When he was satisfied he gave a quick rap on the side of the trunk and a flap popped out. He reached into the hidden compartment and pulled out his prized possession. The 12-guage double barreled Remington. With cobalt blue steel and a walnut stock, despite its well-worn appearance it was still a thing of beauty. He spun it a few times around his finger and deposited it cleanly in it's holster "Hey hero!" came a nasally voice with a Brooklyn accent from behind him. A sense of extreme annoyance filled Ash. "Damnit Runt! I thought you and I parted ways!"

When he turned to the voice he saw a 3ft tall midget in gray pants and a white t-shirt with Mr. T style ring and necklace. He also had half his skin missing. This was Sam Raimy, Ash's half-deadite "pall" and all around pain in the ass.

"Well hello to you too. What kind of greeting is that? Anyway I came in for the Gathering of the Juggalos and I saw S-Mart and figured I'd see if you were here so I could come and say watsup…So…Watsup?" A long silence followed where ash cocked his eyebrow and just stared at the midget.

"Alllriiight. I'm sensing some hostility. Now I was in the-" Sam was cut off when Ash, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to put up with this pest again, punted him into a nearby '72 Velari which burst into flames effectively incinerating Sam's body. Ash smiled thinking, 'that never gets old'. He started to walk to the Gathering when a voice behind him said, "Ash, you sir…are an ass-hole." Ash stopped pulled out his shotgun, rested it on his shoulder, and shot Sam in the face. A few seconds later… "Ash, every time you do that I get dirt in my teeth."

Ash clenched his fist and shouted "Why don't you ever stay dead!"

"Just to piss you off." Came the nasally reply.


	3. The Carnival of Carnage

Ch. 2

Finally the grip on the audience seemed to have been broken for people had started to move around restlessly, no one really knowing what to do and no one taking charge. It was at that time the sky chose to start to rain. But it was not raining water. Clowns, painted in macabre, twisted expressions, fell from the sky and landed on random people, the best dressed. When the clowns collided with the human skulls, a horrible _smuuush_ ensued and blood and gray matter splattered everywhere.

Ash was ready, this was what he was waiting for. Out came the shotgun and on went the chainsaw. The nearest clown was his first target. The chainsaw slashed at an upward arc cleaving the clown in two. A shotgun blast at point blank finished off another of the painted horde. Another blast and another clown fell. Through the hole in the things chest he saw a clown of considerable girth rushing forward. Thinking quick, Ash steadied himself and extended the chainsaw. There came a deep _rRrRrRrRRRRrrr _as the clown impaled himself on the chainsaw. Ash ripped the chainsaw out of the mortally wounded clown and spun to find that the rest of the clowns, finished with their bloody rampage, were just ambling away leaving him alive.

In awe at his fortune, Ash took this opportunity to reload the shotgun and survey his surroundings again. He saw nothing new on his first glimpse but, when he glanced again, he noticed that a tent was now lit up in the distance. He warily started towards it. As he neared the tent he heard a heavy rap beat coming from it.

A short one I know but its only an intro to part 1 chapter 1. Ny responses do the usual. Thanks, Danke Schön, Gracias, Domo Arigato, Gratzie, спасибо (Russian), Merci Beaucoup, and Mahalo. And much clown love.


	4. The Juggla

The Juggla

Ash watched in wonder as the tent bounced and swayed to the beat of the music. He heard a confident voice rapping inside but he couldn't make out what it was saying. He crept up to the door, took cover to the side of the door and cautiously opened the flap and looked inside.

Ash saw a humongously oversized J tossing what appeared to be bits and pieces of people around and dexterously juggling them, not once during the minutes Ash stared wondering what the hell this was, did he even come close to dropping them. Ash stepped in took aim with his shotgun and fired at one of the pieces. It soared a good twenty feet before a stray arm snuck from behind the Juggla, caught the piece, and brought it back to the circle. Ash just stared. Without warning, the Juggla laughed loudly and the all the pieces he was juggling disappeared.

With a low growl, the Juggla shifted it's gaze to the gnat that had just tried to make it drop something. As he recognized Ash, his smile grew. With a chuckle he crashed his hand down on to where Ash was standing. Miraculously though, Ash ended up in the space between the Juggla's fingers. Without thinking Ash let loose a blast into the webbing between the Juggla's fingers. Blood and flesh flew into his face and when his vision cleared, Ash found that the shot didn't do shit… It was then the Juggla, decided to close his fingers.

Ash felt his ribs starting to crack as the Juggla lifting him up to his face. "Damn your and ugly mutha-" His phrase was cut off as the Juggla clenched his hand. "Yea..I could do that too if I were 60ft tall…" coughed Ash. Suddenly a glint caught his bloodshot eye. He focused his mind to stay awake and focus on the glint. What he saw was not exactly reassuring. It looked like a 17 year old kid with spikey black hair on a tight-rope near the top of the tent. 'o hell, not another midget to deal with' thought Ash, his vision swimming from the force of the Juggla's grip.

Then another thing he was not looking forward to. The other midget. "Holy Crap! The Juggla!" Gasped the Brooklyn born deadite. As if on cue, there was an explosion and a puff of smoke on top of the Juggla's head, and there stood Shaggy. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he is...the juggla! He'll cut your windpipe, eat your face, and slit your motherfucking heart out. You can see this freak show at the world famous Carnival of Carnage! Keep juggling, motherfucker!" Shaggy flipped Ash the bird and there was another puff of smoke and Ash followed Shaggy's falling body as it fell off the now laughing Juggla's head. When he landed he bounced back on his feet (litteraly), Shaggy, muttering obscenities ran out the tent.

While, the Juggla was busy laughing, the kid took a dive. He plummeted a good 40 ft before the rope tied to his foot bungeed him enough so that he could cut the rope (what weird knives, thought Ash) and fall lightly on the Juggla's head without being noticed. Ash figured it was prudent to distract the Juggla so he did what any sensible man would do when given this situation, he revved the chainsaw, the Juggla had loosened his grip, and plunged it into the Juggla's finger. And the Juggla, like any sensible thing that had a chainsaw jammed into it's finger, screamed. It dawned on Ash that he might just have signed his own death warrant as he looked at the kid on the Juggla's head. The Juggla growled in anger and flung Ash into the air, wrenching the chainsaw off his stump in the process and making Ash scream in agony. As Ash started to plummet, he was joined in the air by gore. Gore, blood, and pieces of people. And the Juggla started to do what he did best, he juggled. Ash's body had finally had enough and he blacked out.

When he woke up, he was laying on the ground in a dissolving tent. He looked around and saw he was laying next to a gigantic arm. He got up, hobbled over to the hand and wriggled his chainsaw out, but could not muster the strength to attach it so he dropped it. He heard footsteps close by and raised his shotgun, painfully. What he saw stunned him… it was the kid. He was bloddy and bruised, but smiling. And to tell the truth, the smile creeped him out, he had really sharp looking fangs… "What happened?" mumbled Ash. The kid looked around and said, "The Juggla dropped something."

I don't give a shit what you think, I like this ending. Yet another self intro… ;)

Ny responses? do the usual. Thanks, Danke Schön, Gracias, Domo Arigato, Gratzie, спасибо, Merci Beaucoup, and Mahalo. And much clown love.


End file.
